


Nightmares

by hydesboy



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Silent Hill (Video Game Series), Silent Hill: Revelation 3D (2012)
Genre: Pre-Canon, heather experiences not her memories as nightmares, literally the last word is a swear but that's all, was very tired when I wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:15:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28771452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydesboy/pseuds/hydesboy
Summary: Heather has a nightmare, but the difference between dreams and memories long forgotten often blurred for her.Lot of late night rambling nonsense but this is now everyone else's problem.Also I think I included everything Heather was in for the fandom list, but let me know if I somehow missed one.I do not have any association with the creation of Silent Hill, it belongs to Team Silent and Konami!
Kudos: 2





	Nightmares

Smoke, heavy and acridic burnt at her lungs, making even a single breath ache, and ache with no perceivable end in sight no matter how hard she might pray. Pray? What use would praying do for her now, as the meagre scrap that she was was hidden away from the world by flames that she could no longer feel? Who would hear her even if she prayed? Was it not her pain that the god was supposed to be listening for anyway? No, no salvation would be granted her in her time of need, she would be burnt away and they would rejoice.  
Rejoice!  
They would celebrate her death for while they had failed, with her pain and suffering they would cleanse the wickedness from the earth until the time came that another would come to take her place. It was inevitable, the wheel of fate would roll no matter how much she hoped and prayed, but with the last scrap of energy that she could muster, she would try to knock the so-called destiny off its path, even if just for the time being.  
As the fire spread, Alessa Gillespie screamed.  
As the child screamed, the darkness spread.  
As the darkness spread, Heather Mason woke up.

The room was dark, the sun having not yet begun their daily voyage into the sky, the world still bathed with a darkness that she would ordinarily have found comforting, but instead instilled in her a dread of something she did not fully understand. Heather's breath shook, gasping through a cough that burned in her throat with a ferocity that made her wonder if it would ever end. But, of course, it did end with her gulping down the cool night air like a drowning soldier granted a second chance at life. Or perhaps it was a third chance at life.  
As she shook like a leaf in the autumnal breeze, she buried her fingers in her slightly bleach-fried hair with such a franticness it was almost as if she could find relief hidden away in her scalp if only she dug hard enough. This did not do all that much to help, and as the teenager let her hands drop back down onto the covers of her bed, little flecks of quickly drying blood had buried themselves beneath her short fingernails, unnoticed. Even if she did notice, she would not have cared.

She was acting like a frightened child, and by all accounts that was precisely what poor Heather was.  
This was not the first time the nightmares had come, all fire and flames, the pain in a body she did not recognise - and how would she recognise herself? She'd been shying away from mirrors for as long as she could remember, and so she could have looked like absolutely anything! - feeling more like herself than she did in the waking world. She had tried and tried again to shake the nightmares from plaguing her mind, but no matter how many candles and incense sticks she lit, hours spent meditating, medication she warily tried, nothing worked.  
She didn't understand the nightmares, didn't want to understand them, but she certainly wanted them gone. Dreams were said to be, or so the books she had thumbed through with vague curiosity but little actual hope, manifestations of the dreamer's psyche, revealing deep dark corners of the mind that were never given a place in the waking world, but she could not imagine what the dreams were meant to be telling her.  
Fire had all manner of meanings, from motivation and determination, to jealousy and dangerous obsessions, to rage and a want to take control of a situation, to even cleansing the soul to be able to start anew. None of this did her any good, of course, because there were far too many possibilities and not enough actual answers.

With a sigh, the youth rose to her feet, the carpet soft under her bare feet. There would not be all that much use for her to try and fall asleep again, her mind was feeling far too busy to even attempt to sleep. Even if she did, somehow and by some sort of miracle, manage to nod off again, Heather was quite sure that the nightmares would just creep back and the whole damned cycle would start over again. What she needed, she concluded, was some fresh air to wash away the lingering smell of smoke that somehow managed to stick to her senses as it it was real. Fresh air always did wonders when she felt poorly in the past, so hopefully this was no exception to this rule.  
As quiet as she could, not wanting to wake her father who was asleep in the next room over - oh, and how many more nights did he have to sleep in peace? - she ever so slowly nudged the window open. The night air held a crisp chill to it that she could not help but thank.  
She had more than enough of heat for one night, thank you very much!

The moon hung half full in the sky, happy stars dotting the blue-black of the night, the occasional unseen cloud drifting carelessly across the moon, not long enough to blot out the light. It was, on whole, a perfectly ordinary night. Although it was late, she hadn't bothered to glance at the clock but she knew this with the certainty of a person that often frequented late hours, there were still the occasional soul out and about. A young man out there jogging along, not brave enough to do so when there were too many others out there to see him, to laugh at him, to judge him. A group of women with an indeterminable age striding about close to the nearest wall, one needing to lean against it so that she didn't lose her footing entirely, their drunken laughter joining the music of the night itself, their words lost to her but the melodies they brought still filling the air. Briefly she pondered if it would do her any good to go for a walk herself, but she was sure her father would absolutely flip if he realised his teenage daughter was out and about in the streets in the middle of the night.  
The area was not yet completely familiar to her, but the apartment felt more than enough like home so she felt safe. Safe. No fire. No death. Just safe.  
A child? She could have sworn that she had seen a child outside, but by the time she looked to where she thought she saw them, there was nothing there. Clearly she was not as awake as she thought she was.  
With the caution of a person nursing one hell of a migraine, she shook her head, trying to dislodge and dismiss each and every thought that clung there. She wouldn't mind a blankness for a little while, but that was too much to hope for.

The thundering of her heartbeat in her ears dulled to something no longer audible, her breath gradually becoming more steady and, wanting to reap the benefit of this, she stretched and made her way back over to her bed. Just before she reached it, however, her newly formed relief became short lived.  
A stabbing pain in her abdomen caused her step to falter, causing Heather to drop involuntarily down to her knees as the cramp grew worse and worse, unrelenting in its unexpected pain.  
"Fuck...!"


End file.
